


Sweetener

by goldheartedsky



Series: The Thrill of It All [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: 1940s, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Steve Rogers, Drunk Sex, Fluffy Ending, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming, Top Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-20 16:57:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16141547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldheartedsky/pseuds/goldheartedsky
Summary: Bucky comes home drunk after striking out on a date.Steve ends up being the next best thing.





	Sweetener

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this as a quick break from all the sad shit I’m working on. Little rusty at writing smut so bear with me. 
> 
> Note: This is tagged mildly dubious consent due to Bucky being drunk and the slight coercion into drinking and sex. Everyone agrees to everything though!
> 
> Title from Ariana’s new album because it is EVERYTHING.

* * *

_*snap*_

“Damn it,” he mutters, grabbing his pencil sharpener. His assignment was due in two days and he was barely halfway done with the portrait, nobody to blame but himself. Bucky, always the overachiever, had finished earlier this morning, but Steve had been stuck on every detail on his own easel for far too long.

He jumps when the front door slams open and closed, snapping the graphite lead again.

“God damn it, Bucky!” he grumbles, slamming the pencil down on his desk. It was late anyway, might as well call it quits for the night.

He strips out of his suspenders, listening to his roommate’s heavy footfalls stumble through the apartment. The date must not have gone well for once: Bucky was actually home, and terribly drunk by the sound of it. Steve rolls his eyes at the small crash in the dining room, beginning to unbutton his shirt. Bucky’s footsteps tumble down the hall and he freezes when the handle on his door jiggles and turns.

The door swings open, Bucky leaning smoothly against the doorway, suspenders down around his hips, liquor bottle in hand. He’s all pink cheeks, glassy eyes, and deadly smirk. Steve had seen it so many times from Bucky picking up girls in front of him that it almost doesn’t even have an effect on him. Almost.

He chuckles, stripping fully out of his shirt. “‘m guessing you struck out then with, what was her name, Margaret?”

“Sure was,” Bucky slurs, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Called her ‘Katie’ after that other broad from last week. Needless to say, she ain’t too fond ‘a being called ‘Katie.’” His steel blue eyes are wolffish as they sweep up and down Steve’s thin frame. It’s just a little too lewd and makes a hot flush creep up Steve’s chest. “So what’re y’ doin’ tonight?”

“Just trying to finish coursework,” he mutters as Bucky stumbles across his room, dropping the bottle on his bedside table before falling face first on Steve’s bed. “Y’know, I was planning on sleeping there.”

“What’s stoppin’ ya?” the older man asks, voice muffled in the mattress.

Steve rolls his eyes, smacking at Bucky’s back. “C’mon, get up, ya jerk. I’m _tired_. I wanna go to sleep.” He brings his hand down again, but the brunet catches his wrist, rolling over on the bed. Steve goes down with him, falling into Bucky’s chest. The older man’s arm wraps around his waist as he pulls them closer together.

He raises his head to look at Bucky, his heart nearly stopping dead in his chest when his friend tangles a hand through his hair. “ _So pretty_ ,” Bucky slurs, eyes just on the edge of unfocused as he runs a thumb over Steve’s bottom lip, rough skin dragging it down.

A laugh gets caught in his throat, coming out as a strained whine. “Buck, I ain’t one of your dames,” Steve breathes, his face turning a deep shade of crimson.

”So pretty,” the other man murmurs again, capturing Steve in a deep kiss, tongue slipping into his mouth easily. He can taste sweet cigarettes and bitter whiskey on Bucky’s tongue, the intoxicating mixture slipping down his throat. Steve has played this exact scenario in his head a million times since he was sixteen years old, but Bucky’s hands are warmer than he could have imagined, their bodies fit together better than they should. It’s too perfect and it sends shivers up his spine.

There’s a burning in his stomach and he doesn’t know if it’s from desire or the constant pit of guilt that has existed in him from the time Steve can remember.

He had whispered it to his mother on her deathbed, her hand clenched tight in his as the tears streamed down his face. His mother had cried too, she knew as well as Steve what Bucky’s reputation was already blossoming into. She had cried for her son to be safe, to find someone who could actually love him back, but most of all cried because she couldn’t protect him anymore. She had to leave him alone in a world that would never want him for who he really was.

“Buck, you’re drunk,” Steve gasps breathlessly as the older man kisses his way down his jaw, nipping at the thin skin on his neck. It’ll leave a mark, he’s sure of it.

Bucky’s hands grip the small of his back, fingers tugging at Steve’s undershirt as he pulls it free from the blond’s waistband. The movements are sloppy, unclean, and it makes Steve wonder how many times Bucky had done this with girls in the other room. “Wanna have a good time with ya,” the older man hums against Steve’s collarbone, cupping his ass through his pants. “Gonna make ya feel so good, babydoll.”

“Ain’t your babydoll.”

It comes out less convincing than it sounded in Steve’s head and his stomach flips when Bucky chuckles low in his throat. The older man thrusts his hips up, fingertips digging into the soft muscle when Steve lets out a quiet whimper. “Sounds like you wanna be, huh?” Bucky says, words running together. “Want me to eat you out, sweetheart?” His voice is dripping with indecency, enough to make Steve’s cock jump in his pants. “Get you all dripping?”

He hisses as Bucky hitches his hips up higher, capturing one of Steve’s nipples in his mouth, sucking through the thin fabric of his shirt. “D’you actually talk to girls like this?” Steve moans, letting out a shaky breath. “Surprised none of ‘em have socked ya.”

Bucky laughs again and it sends shockwaves through Steve’s chest when he bites down lightly, rolling the bud of Steve’s nipple gently in his teeth.

God, he wants this. He’s wanted this for years. Every time he had heard those girls Bucky brought home gasping with ecstasy, every time he had palmed his prick in the silence of his room as he listened to Bucky’s low grunting across the hall, every time he had imagined himself with the older man’s fingers inside of him instead of his own. But now he can’t even coax a, “ _yes_ ,” out of his mouth. “Shit,” he groans, “Bucky...”

All he can taste is alcohol, all he can smell is Bucky’s cologne. The older man pulls away from Steve’s chest and fumbles on the table for the whiskey. He takes a deep swig, throat bobbing as he swallows. “Just relax, baby,” he slurs, tipping the bottle up to Steve’s lips.

Steve wants to smack the bottle out of Bucky’s hands, even more so when the older man pulls his hips down, grinding Steve’s ass down on his hard cock, but he can’t. Can’t do anything other than drop his head down, mouth opening in a low moan. Bucky seizes his chance, tipping the bottle up to let the alcohol run into Steve’s mouth.

The burning liquid hits the back of his throat, making him cough as he swallows. “You bastard,” Steve splutters, making a face as the warmth begins to spread through his body.

“You’re still not sayin’ no, are ya?” Bucky murmurs, setting the bottle back down. His hands fumble with the buttons on the front of the blond’s pants as his mouth reattaches to Steve’s neck. “Come on, babydoll, lemme get ya outta these.”

It’s either the alcohol taking effect or the endorphins coursing through his body, but Steve’s head fucking spins as he’s suddenly staring at the ceiling.

“What’re you doin’?” he says, mentally punching himself for drinking as his words start to slur together.

Bucky just mumbles something inaudible as he sloppily pulls Steve’s pants over his thin hips, leaving him in just his underwear. There’s no point even trying to hide his erection as it tents the thin fabric. The brunet doesn’t touch his cock, doesn’t even acknowledge it as he covers the pale skin of the inside of Steve’s thigh with his mouth. “So pretty, so soft,” Bucky garbles, his large, rough hands trailing over every inch of exposed skin he can find.

The older man pushes his undershirt up, trailing his nails back down Steve’s hardened nipples. Steve arches off the bed, his hips digging down into the coils as he pants, “God damn it.”

His body feels like it’s on fire, lungs heaving just trying to suck in enough oxygen to keep him alive. He can feel the skip in his heartbeat as it slams against his chest, threatening to break free, but all Steve can do is grip his sheets like they’re the only thing keeping him from shooting through the roof.

“Wanna taste ya,” Bucky slurs, mouthing at the fine, barely-there blond fuzz on his thighs. He pushes the hem of Steve’s underwear up with his nose, trying to bury his face deeper in the curve of the younger man’s body. “Wanna taste ya so bad, darlin’.”

“You fuckin’ asshole. You’re going to be the death of me, Bucky Barnes.”

“Is that a yes, then?” he asks languidly, head rising to look Steve straight in the eye. He’s still completely soused, pupils dilated far too wide, but there’s an intensity there that Steve has never seen before. He resists the urge to let his own eyes roll back into his head as Bucky snakes his fingers up the back of his underwear and nods his head. He can feel the dangerous smirk dripping from the older man’s mouth as Bucky croons, “There we go, sweetheart. You’re gonna forget your own name by the time I’m done with ya.”

For a second, Steve has an inkling that Bucky doesn’t even remember his to begin with tonight.

Bucky climbs up the bed, catching himself on the headboard as he leans down to capture Steve in a lewd kiss, too much tongue, too much teeth. It’s desperate and needy and he can feel the older man’s erection pressing down hard against his hip.

Pulling away, Bucky grabs the bottle again, taking a long drink, face flushed a deep pink. He pauses for a second to catch his breath, eyes half lidded with a dazed smile, and Steve wonders how he’s even upright at this point. The bottle is already half empty and, at the rate Bucky’s drinking, he’s definitely feeling it by now.

The brunet takes another drink and holds it, pressing their lips together again. Steve can taste the alcohol on his lips, seeping through the crack in Bucky’s smirk, but relents into the kiss when the older man wedges his thigh in between his legs just right. He opens his mouth in a low moan, letting the warm liquid trickle down his throat. The buzz has already begun in his head and Steve, being the lightweight he is, knows this is what may push him over the edge.

Everything spins again when Bucky flips him over onto his stomach, hauling his thin hips in the air. “So good f’me. So fuckin’ pretty,” the other man purrs against the small of his back.

Steve inhales sharply when Bucky pulls his underwear down over his hips, exposing the pale skin of his ass to the cool air. But Bucky’s hands are hot and heavy on his back and thighs, his callouses from the past two years of dock work scratching the soft surface of his skin.

“Bucky... fuck...” he pants quietly, words escaping the alcohol induced haze of his mind.

“Yeah, baby? Want my mouth to open ya up so nice? Want me to get my fingers all up inside ya before I fuck ya real soft and slow like ya want?”

All he can manage is a broken whimper when Bucky hitches his hips higher in the air, tongue dragging a long flat strip from his balls to his tailbone. A hot flush washes over his face as he keens his hips back into the older man’s warm wet mouth. The whiskey hits him like a train and Steve can’t stop the loud moan that slips out between his teeth when Bucky’s tongue flickers over his hole.

Gripping the sheets hard enough to turn his knuckles white, Steve’s legs shake as Bucky’s mouth delves deeper into the curve of his ass. The loud, wet sounds of Bucky’s tongue against skin drown out the gasping breaths that Steve can barely catch.

Steve is sure he’s going to pass out when his body finally gives way to the brunet, Bucky’s tongue slipping inside of him easily. Bucky hums in satisfaction and drags the pad of his thumb in along where his mouth meets puckered skin. His other hand grips the blond’s hips tight, holding him steady, and Steve wonders if his fingers will leave bruises.

“Taste so good,” Bucky slurs in between licks. “Like fuckin’ honey t’ me, baby.”

“Shit, _ah_ ,” he moans, the trembling in his legs moving up his body as the older man begins his sweet assault again. “Want... fuckin’ _hell_... want you.”

“All ya had to do was ask. Could’a said please, though.”

“Please,” Steve chokes out, burying his face in the pillow when Bucky’s fingers tease over his hole. “Please please please.”

His cock is leaking already, he can feel his underwear dampening in front as his pre-come mixes with Bucky’s dripping saliva, and all he want is some fucking friction. The mattress, his hand, Bucky’s hand, anything. But his friend has other ideas for him, pulling Steve back against his mouth, tongue slipping inside him again.

Bucky’s breath is hot and steady against him, tongue pointed and tight as it fucks into him steadily. Steve gasps for breath as the older man’s thumb joins in, the pad dragging across the slick surface of his ass. It dips into his hole, breaching the muscle easily as Bucky just teases him, licking leisurely around the digit. His cock jumps when Bucky moans around him, sending shockwaves up his spine.

Steve’s vision whites out when Bucky works his thumb deeper alongside his tongue and he lets out a desperate whine.

He breathes a stuttering, “O-oh, god d-damn it. Your fuckin’ m-mouth,” as the brunet sucks lightly at the base of his balls. His hips arch back when Bucky drags his teeth across the sensitive skin, searching for any kind of relief for the deprivation he feels.

“God, you’re just dripping for me, sweetheart. So fuckin’ wet,” the older man says darkly, pulling away for a second. “Want my mouth or my fingers in ya, now? Maybe both?”

Steve opens his mouth to try and force an answer out when it’s cut off by a needy cry, one of Bucky’s slick fingers slipping inside of him easily. His arms give out and he drops to his elbows at the slide of the other man’s finger in and out of his body. Bucky must’ve found the jar of vasaline tucked in between the wall and the mattress. His fingers are longer, thicker than Steve’s and the slight drag of the calluses is going to be the death of him.

He can’t stop the moans that tumble, one after the other, out of his mouth as Bucky fucks him attentively. Steve lets out a loud gasp when the other man adds a second finger, then a third just seconds later. The stretch burns gloriously, Bucky’s broad fingers twisting deep inside of him.

No wonder Bucky had any girl he wanted. Steve can just imagine those poor girls coming undone, just like he is now, and feels a sense of kinship with them.

Bucky’s fingers curl down against his prostate and Steve bites his arm to muffle a scream.

“Yeah?” the brunet slurs, fingers stroking that sweet spot again and again. “That’s where ya like it, babydoll? Think I could make ya come for me just like this?” Steve can’t put enough words together to agree with him, just chokes out a sob as Bucky’s fingers move faster and faster. “Think if I get ya there, get ya wet enough, I can still fuck ya all nice and tight?”

Hot tears seep out of Steve’s eyes as he tries to catch his breath. His body feels like it’s on fire, building a tight knot deep in his groin. If Bucky keeps going on like this, he’s likely to have an asthma attack.

He muffles another loud groan when Bucky’s mouth returns again, tongue darting around the stretched rim, in between his fingers. “Please, Bucky,” he pants, head spinning.

“Please what?”

“Please fuck me,” he cries softly, the other man’s fingers dragging across his prostate again. There’s a soft rustle of clothes behind him, Bucky’s fingers still buried deep inside Steve, and the bed shifts as the older man moves closer. Steve chases the emptiness inside of him when Bucky removes his hand but bites back his tears as the other man’s cock slides fully inside him.

He’s had sex with a handful of guys in his 22 years, but nobody has fit this well inside of Steve. Like he was molded just for Bucky and Bucky for Steve. It’s a shame this will never last.

One night was better than nothing.

Steve can feel Bucky’s lips on the back of his neck, careless and disheveled, as he thrusts shallowly. The older man’s breath is hot against his ear as he purrs, “Feel that, baby? See how bad I want ya? How hard I am for ya? Drive me wild, darlin’.” He pulls out almost entirely before thrusting in slow and deep, like he’s making a point, and Steve isn’t sure how he’s still alive.

“Harder,” Steve manages to wheeze, his lungs burning as he tries to suck in enough air to counteract the rattle in his lungs. “Please, Bucky, Jesus.”

The whiskey is settling in hard and spreading warmth over his body. Coupled with Bucky’s prick buried in his ass and his own cock achingly hard between his legs, there’s no way Steve is lasting long. His desperate plea just elicits a drunken laugh from Bucky, the other man slurring, “Gonna take my time, baby. Gonna fuck ya soft and sweet until ya can’t take it anymore. Till you’re beggin’ me t’ let you go.”

Steve lets out a long, broken moan at the older man’s words. He’s so close, been so close for seconds, minutes, even hours maybe: time has completely escaped him now. But if Bucky says no, says to wait, he will wait and hold on to this glorious moment as long as he can.

Bucky fucks him just like he promised, long and slow, his hard cock dragging across Steve’s insides. A couple rough thrusts to his prostate leaves Steve nearly in tears, begging for release unintelligibly as his body is on the brink of collapse. He can feel Bucky getting close too, the quiet moans of drunken satisfaction turning gruff, the mumbled, “Sweetheart, babydoll, darlin’”s coming faster and more broken.

There’s a white hot burning spreading through his chest and he’s not sure if it’s getting fucked like this or the lack of oxygen. Steve’s mind is somewhere else entirely as his body just screams Bucky’s name inside of his head. The older man grinds deeper into him, touching places he didn’t even know he had.

Steve can feel the drag of cotton and buttons and metal clips across his hips and thighs, feel buttons dig into his back. He’s so exposed and Bucky couldn’t even be bothered to undress.

Through the haze, he lets out a shaking, broken moan when the brunet teases his rim with his still slick fingers, threatening to work them in alongside his cock. Threatening to stretch him to his breaking point.

“Ya want me to?” Bucky slurs, voice sloppier than the stuttered movements of his hips. “Think y’could take whatever I can give ya?” He punctuates the words with a hard thrust, hips snapping hard against Steve’s. “Get m’fingers all in there nice ‘n sweet?” Steve’s eyes roll back into his head and he must make some sound affirmation with the way the other man groans, like he’s indulging Bucky in everything he wants.

All the air is driven from his body and he turns into a shaking, shuddering mess as Bucky works a long finger in with his prick, twisting it in an effort to unravel him.

“B-Bucky... god... o-oh...” he stammers as the other man slides a second finger in. “N’more.”

“Wish y’could see how good ya look for me,” Bucky’s voice drips, clearly as close to the edge as he is. “So fuckin’ pretty, goddamn. So good for me. So good, s’perfect.”

Bucky’s cock hits his prostate again and Steve is one or two well aimed thrusts from coming without anyone touching his aching prick. His shorts are completely soaked in the front, the head of his cock leaking steadily. “Please, please,” he sobs, tears coming freely as the need overwhelms his body. “I need t’ come, Buck. P-Please.”

The brunet breathes hot and heavy against his shoulder, sinking his teeth in as he shudders through a thrust. Bucky’s fingers twist tightly inside of him, a noiseless scream caught in his throat. They’re both shaking uncontrollably at this point, sweat slicking their movements together.

“B-Buck, _please_.”

Steve gasps in sync as Bucky pulls his fingers out, changing his movements from deep and slow to hard and fast, no rhythm to them anymore. It’s all a mess of slapping skin, sloppy movements, and loud moans as Bucky twists Steve’s face back into a wanton kiss. The older man braces one hand against the headboard as the other one shoves down the front of Steve’s underwear, fisting the blond’s cock quickly.

His body gives up all together and he can barely throw an arm around the brunet’s neck, hand tangling in the dark strands as he holds on for dear life.

“I love you. Fuckin’ love you,” Bucky rasps into his mouth, burying himself in deep.

He comes embarrassingly quickly, moaning brokenly into Bucky’s mouth as he sees stars. His entire body quivers and tightens around the other man and, somewhere deep in his haze of ecstasy, he feels Bucky rise to his breaking point as well.

Steve’s body is so over sensitized that he drops down to the bed, tears leaking out the corners of his eyes as the older man thrusts harder and harder. “So close,” Bucky gasps, hips stuttering as he scratches his nails over the blond’s hips. “I love you, Steve,” he whispers, less like a statement and more like a vow. He thrusts in hard enough to force a sob out of Steve’s mouth, moving fast and shallow as he pants quietly.

Biting the thin skin of his wrist, Steve’s mind disappears entirely as Bucky comes hard, letting out a loud moan. He can feel the older man’s cock throbbing inside of him, filling him up hot and thick.

They stay like that for far too long, the brunet’s hand trailing up and down his hair and neck, still thrusting shallowly in and out. Steve’s body shakes with each slow drag as he struggles to catch his breath, Bucky’s body heavy on top of him. The room is spinning and he’s starting to think it’s not just from the alcohol.

The bed creaks as Bucky pulls out, dropping down to the mattress next to Steve, both of their chests heaving.

Steve buries his face in the pillow, trying to quell the adrenaline still running through his body. He can feel Bucky’s breathing silently slow next to him and can’t bring himself to look at the other man. After almost ten minutes, he rolls off his bed and pulls his underwear back up over his hips. His face is still burning hot as he ducks out of his bedroom and into the bathroom, wiping his face with the back of his hand.

When Steve looks in the mirror, he looks completely and utterly debauched. Like he’s been ripped open and there are parts of him haven’t been sew up again yet. He wipes his eyes and starts the hot water in the tub.

He can’t believe he was stupid enough to let this happen. Bucky was drunk, not just drunk but drunk enough to call him pet names the entire time like Steve was just another one of his dates. He had struck out with Mollie or Katie or Margaret or whatever her name was and Steve was easy enough to take up that space in his bed. Bucky didn’t want him, couldn’t want him the way he needed to be wanted.

Tears burn his eyes again and his breathing hitches as a sob threatens to climb out of his chest. Steve wipes his eyes frustratedly and sniffs, stripping out of his undershirt and shorts.

He can still feel everywhere Bucky had touched him, can still feel his friend filling him up, and it makes his skin crawl on his bones. This wasn’t fair. Why did he let this happen. This was going to ruin his life.

Cutting off the faucet, Steve sinks into the shin deep water, not enough to relax him, but just enough to let him scrub himself clean. It’s too hot and it burns as he scours his skin red. The water turns cloudy but it’s still not enough. Another sob wracks his body as Steve pulls his knees up, burying his face in them. Even when he had nothing, he had Bucky, and now he was going to lose him.

Steve sits in the tub for far too long, the water turning cold around his hips before he finally can haul himself out to dry off. There’s dried salt crusted around his eyes and he can see the bite mark and fingerprints already bruising on his shoulder and hips as he wraps a towel around himself. It makes his face flush again, not out of desire, but embarrassment this time.

His bedroom is quiet as he creeps back down the hall.

Bucky is still on his bed, eyes closed, suspenders down around his open pants. He’s snoring softly but at least had the decency to tuck himself back into his underwear before passing out.

He didn’t care about Steve, at least like he should have after that. Why would he?

Steve grabs new clothes from his dresser and shuts the door silently, chewing on the inside of his lip. Everything is silent except for the clock ticking in the living room as Steve dresses with shaking hands, pulling on his pajamas. The knit stretches over his feet and hands, gathering at his wrists and ankles.

He pulls his mother’s favorite quilt from the linen closet before burying himself underneath it on the couch. Steve couldn’t bear to wash it, even after four years, and when he closes his eyes, he can still smell the soft jasmine of her perfume on it. It’s comforting memory in times like these, when his entire world is falling apart around him.

Steve doesn’t cry anymore that night, just falls numbly asleep and waits for the morning to come like a prisoner on death row.

He wakes to a quiet, “Hey punk, whatcha doing out here?”

Blinking his eyes open tiredly, Steve wishes the pink would stay hidden underneath his shirt, but he can feel it creeping up his neck already. “Someone passed out in my bed,” he snaps, a little too sharply.

Bucky leans against the bookcase, studying him carefully. The older man’s hair is a mess, his face is still slightly flushed from the alcohol last night, and his eyes are tired and a little dazed, but Steve wants nothing more than to just kiss him again. Chase that high of last night any way he can. Bucky swallows and licks his lips a little, muttering, “Well yeah, I know what I was doing in your bed last night. Doesn’t explain why you’re out here sleepin’ by yourself.”

Steve’s face burns in embarrassment and he can’t even look at his friend anymore. “Oh yeah?” he asks roughly. “Babydoll? Sweetheart? Those ring any bells for you?”

The brunet doesn’t answer, just drops his eyes to the floor.

“God, you’re such a fucking heel, you know that, right?” he barks, standing up defiantly. His fists clench involuntarily because, with the way his life has gone, it’s going to end in a fight like it always does. “I ain’t like all those dames that line up around the block for you. I’m your best friend, at least I thought I was.”

“Yeah?” Bucky asks, a little petulantly. “Ain’t you my friend now?” He huffs slightly and runs a hand through his hair, almost nervously. “Why’s that gotta change?”

“Because of what you did last night!” Steve shouts, remembering Bucky’s mouth on every inch of him, remembering Bucky buried deep inside him. He lifts up his shirt to show the deep purple fingerprints the other man had left behind. “You were so drunk that you couldn’t even remember my name. Like I was just some broad you picked up after your date went south. Kept callin’ me babydoll and sweetheart and darlin’ while you fucked me.”

He watches Bucky pick anxiously at his nails, cheeks turning red. Of course he was embarrassed. Bucky Barnes, while more than happy to keep Steve’s secret, couldn’t be proud of finding himself in bed with him. Couldn’t admit that he had slept with another man.

“You could’a said no,” the older man finally mumbles quietly, chewing on the inside of his lip.

Steve’s heart nearly stops dead in his chest as he stares up at Bucky. “What did you just say?”

Bucky’s grey-blue eyes tip up to look at him nervously. “You could’a said no if you didn’t want me to touch you. You ain’t gotta go on talking about how we ain’t friends because of it. Seemed like you wanted me to, last night,” he says, still fidgeting with his hands, like he doesn’t know what to do with them. “You could’a just said no.”

“Did you... were you tryin t’get into my bed last night? Not just ‘cause you were drunk?” Steve asks, unsure which answer he would prefer.

The other man stops fidgeting and sighs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I thought if I tried kissing you and you didn’t want it, I could use being drunk as an excuse and everything would’a been fine. I thought I was crazy for wanting you. But then you didn’t stop me and kept going with it,” Bucky says softly, a smile pulling at his mouth. He stops for a second, grin fading. “But then you disappeared on me afterwards and I thought you were mad. Didn’t want t’bug you if you were.”

“You... wanted to kiss me?” he asks, like he’s still unsure of what he’s hearing.

Bucky laughs a little, relaxing his tightened shoulders. “Course I did, you big dummy,” he says. “You think I would’a done all that to you if I didn’t even want to _kiss_ you?”

Steve takes a couple steps toward the older man, heart pounding in his chest. His mouth feels like sandpaper as he swallows, looking up at Bucky. “Do you want to kiss me again?” he asks quietly, trying to keep his voice steady.

“God, you’re so fucking dumb,” Bucky mutters, reaching out to grab his wrist. His fingers are warm and heavy against Steve’s skin, just like they were last night, as he pulls the blond in close. Bucky curls his other hand around the back of his neck, thumb running over the base of his skull, and Steve has to gather all the willpower in his body not to just melt in his arms.

“What about Margaret?” he asks quietly. “She know about me or anything?”

“Ain’t nobody named Margaret,” the older man laughs. “Just used that as an excuse to get outta the house. Went to the bar down the street and just drank for two hours before I finally got the courage to come back here. You scare the hell outta me, Rogers.”

Bucky leans down to kiss him deeply, pulling Steve flush against his warm body. He can taste the slight bitterness of whiskey present under the toothpaste and mouthwash, but all he can feel is Bucky. He tips up into the kiss, allowing the older man full access to his mouth. For a minute, he forgets how to breath and he knows it’s not just the asthma.

Steve pulls away from the kiss, smacking the older man in the chest. “You’re still a fucking heel,” he says, eliciting a sweet laugh from Bucky’s mouth.

“Why am I still a heel?” Bucky whines, pinching Steve’s side playfully.

“You could’ve just told me you liked guys like that. Would’ve made things a lot easier.”

The older man’s shit eating grin is smug enough that Steve wants to slap it right off his face as he kisses him again. Bucky’s breath is soft against his ear as he murmurs, “ _Don’t_ like guys like that. Just like you. You never asked if I liked you, now did ya?”

He relents, tilting his chin up to allow the other man access to the thin skin along his neck, sighing, “You’re lucky I didn’t just sock you in the jaw last night. ‘Specially with how filthy your mouth is.”

Bucky laughs again against his Adam’s apple and Steve’s breath hitches in his chest. “Pretty sure you liked my filthy mouth last night, didn’t ya?”

“Not complaining. Technique could use a little refinement.”

Bucky’s hands grip his hips a little tighter, nipping at the thin curve of his collarbone. “Well,” he says, “I got the day off today and you ain’t got class til five. Let’s see if we can get you to stop complaining about one damn thing in your life.”

Steve wants to protest but, in all honesty, Bucky’s never had a better sounding idea in his life.

* * *

**Author's Note:**

> Comments feed me and keep me writing more!
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> EDIT: This now has a follow up! Check it out at [Make Me Feel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16283681)


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